


i love all the things you do

by disinvxltura



Category: Men's Hockey RPF, Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, International Fanworks Day 2019, M/M, Philadelphia Flyers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-27 01:22:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17757113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disinvxltura/pseuds/disinvxltura
Summary: He also now knows that the captain, Claude Giroux, has a rocking beard and two cute puppies; Travis Konecny is a fucking disaster of a human; Patrick and Konecny have the ultimate (b)romance; and Ivan Provorov is the prettiest person in the universe.He's only three hours in, and he's already in Flyers hell.or: carter is the king of nico di angelo's hart





	i love all the things you do

**Author's Note:**

> i... can't believe my introduction to hockey rpf is a crack ship with a goaltender and a fictional character but welp, when tomodachi life gives you the pairing and there's a prompt for a character being introduced to a fandom, you just gotta do it
> 
> not beta-ed in the slightest
> 
> title from obsessed with you by the orion experience bc i had to

It all starts with Twitter.

Nico knows, abstractly, that one of his mutuals is a hockey fan. And he’s chill with it; people are allowed to be interested in different things, and if attractive guys pop up on his timeline, hey, he’s not about to complain.

But when he sees that they retweeted a video of an interview, it’s sheer curiosity that compels him to tap on the video to hear.

A woman’s voice from out of frame speaks. “I know I talked to Scott ahead of the game. He said— he feels like now you want the puck now more than ever. Do you feel like a product of— your play has been a product of wanting the puck more, or do you feel like you want the puck more as a product of what you’ve been able to do recently?”

The guy on camera—in a gray beanie, with the number 19 on the side— turns his head to the side just slightly as he says, “Holy, you’re confusing me with that one.”

“Yeah, I confuse myself.”

Number 19 takes a deep breath. “Um, no, I usually just have one ham and cheese sandwich before the game. Today I had two, so I felt really good.”

And Nico can’t help it: he _cackles_.

Time to figure out who the hell this guy is.

 

Turns out, guy in the gray beanie is Nolan Patrick, and Nico was right when he said he was number 19.

Number 19 of the Philadelphia Flyers, to be exact.

He also now knows that the captain, Claude Giroux, has a rocking beard and two cute puppies; Travis Konecny is a fucking disaster of a human; Patrick and Konecny have the ultimate (b)romance; and Ivan Provorov is the prettiest person in the universe.

He’s only three hours in, and he’s already in Flyers hell.

 

As soon as he watches his first Flyers game, he’s _hooked_.

Players fly on the ice, the yells to each other muffled from the distance. The puck slides, bounces, _soars_. Nico has to lean forward in his seat, he’s so entranced by the action on the screen.

With each goal scored by the Flyers, he woops.

With each penalty drawn by the opposing team, he boos.

And with each save by Carter Hart, the best damn goaltender he’s seen, his heart thump, thump, thumps in his chest.

(It’s the adrenaline, he thinks.)

 

Nico should’ve known better, honestly.

He’s not sure when, but his admiration of the rookie goalie took over his life. His lockscreen is of Hart, his Discord icon is a picture of him, and even his fucking _password_ is the netminder’s name, for fuck’s sake.

It gets to the point where even his family knows.

“Hey,” Hazel begins when she pops her head into his room, “What’s that team that you like?”

Nico stares at her for a good five seconds. “Uh. The Flyers? Philadelphia Flyers.” He narrows his eyes. “Why…?”

“Oh, no reason” is all he gets before Hazel’s mane disappears from the doorway.

When he moves his sight back to the postgame interview with Hart—and his glorious biceps—he has to admit to himself that maybe—just maybe—this is an outright obsession.

But hey, Hart’s cute, an absolute sweetheart, great at what he does, and mature for his age.

What’s there not to love?

 

The Wells Fargo Center is massive and noisy, crowded with people in Flyers orange. It's something that Nico generally tries to avoid, but he’s also surrounded by his people, so he’ll be fine for now.

“I can’t _believe_ I get to be here in time for the Playoffs.”

Hazel laughs. “You know our dad.”

And Nico does: an emotionally distant father, Hayden Dearth is a man who can make others cower before him with just a look, but doesn’t quite know how to make others feel appreciated without throwing tons of money their way.

It’s what caused many a fight between Nico and his father—along with many other, ah, _complications_ —but even he can’t deny that Hayden is trying his best to be better.

Nico shrugs a shoulder. “Eh. Still a prick.”

Hazel nudges him not-so-gently with her elbow. “Hey, be nice.” She pauses a moment, looking around the center with awe. “There’s so much orange.”

“We’re at the ‘Farg for a Flyers game.” Nico tugs at her arm, almost causing her to drop her sign. “Now, come on. You said you wanted to show that sign, didn’t you?” At her nod, he tugs again. “Then let’s get to our seats for the warm ups.”

Hazel mutters under her breath, and the only thing Nico catches is “impatient”, but he’s too excited to pay much mind.

 

To Nico’s left, Hazel is practically bouncing. If he wasn’t so nervous, he’d be amused with how cheerful she is.

(“I’m _going_ to make sure that someone gives something to you, even if it’s the last thing I do,” she tells him seriously the night before the game as she carefully fills in blocky letters. “Like maybe that Provolone guy.”

“Provorov.”

“Same difference.”)

“All right, stop bouncing so much,” he tells her, his mouth twitching up on both sides despite himself. “They won’t be able to read the sign.” From out the corner of his eye, he can see one of the goalies make his way to the bench.

Odd, but whatever.

Hazel flashes him a knowing look, but does as he says. “You’re nervous, aren’t you?”

“I mean, yeah.” He waves his hand to the rink in front of them. “These are my favorite people. Other than you,” he adds before she can pout.

Before she can respond, there’s movement in front of them. When Nico turns his head, he’s greeted by an orange and white jersey, a blocker, and a helmet that has cursive on the front.

Nico’s brain has left his body, screaming, to get on a train to Holy-fucking-shit-ville while Nico is left standing there, staring in awe, at Carter _fucking_ Hart. Hart says something, but Nico can’t quite tell what he’s saying. The only thing he knows is that he’s pretty sure he’s died and went to Heaven.

A traitorous part of his brain that’s still present whispers that Hart seems a little more pink than usual, but he waves it off.

It’s just from warming up.

Hazel squeals, and as Nico’s brain is returning from its trip, he catches, “Thank you so much!” Hart skates off, but not without a glance Nico’s way.

Hazel shoves something into his hands before she practically skips her way over to the stairs, up to where their seats are. Nico glances down at his hands to where a puck sits.

A puck. From the playoffs. From _Carter Hart_.

Nico’s definitely in Heaven.

He shakes his head and follows his sister up the stairs, letting the crowd’s buzzing wash over him.

Hazel grins at him from her seat. “Told you I’d get you something,” she crows as he sits down. “Come on, let’s see it.”

“It’s not gonna be anything special, sis,” he informs her, but passes over the puck anyway, because who is he to refuse Hazel anything? “It’s just gonna be the logos for the clubs and a date.”

Hazel rolls her eyes before freezing.

“What?” Nico leans over, catching sight of what seems to be digits. In fact, it looks very suspiciously like—

“A phone number,” Hazel breathes. “Oh my god, that’s a phone number!”

Nico risks a glance up at the rink. Patrick and Konecny are fist-bumping each other; Provorov is dancing in place with the music; and Hart is crouched down, kicking his legs out to stretch them out.

“The guy you’re obsessed with hit on you!”

At that, Nico swivels his head toward Hazel. “You don’t know that! I mean, he’s a hockey player. He’s probably straight.” But Hazel’s shaking her head halfway through.

“Didn’t you hear him? He said ‘For the big brother’.” She points to her sign, which says “BIG BRO’S FIRST GAME” and an arrow indicating said big bro.

Nico’s world stops. “Seriously? He said that?” Hazel nods. “Holy shit. _Holy shit_.”

Hart—bless his fucking heart— takes that moment to glance back towards them, as if sensing Nico’s freakout. Nico raises a hand and waves, feeling awkward.

(He doubts Hart can even see them.)

And right before his very eyes, Hart also raises a hand before letting it drop, returning to his warm ups.

Well. Even if they lose, this isn’t about to be a night Nico will ever forget.

**Author's Note:**

> [come watch me yell about the flyers if you want](https://twitter.com/prxvorov)


End file.
